Before daring to walk through those ominous-looking sliding glass doors at Wal-Mart, I first sat in my vehicle, out there in the sweltering Louisiana heat, and said half a dozen or so “Hail Mary’s” (And I’m not even Catholic).Today I once again ventured into the Valley of Death, otherwise known as Wal-Mart, only because I needed to purchase some groceries and various sundry items and unlike certain moneyed folk (for example, overpaid CEO’s, professional athletes, celebrities, politicians, and Wal-Mart greeters), I must shop where prices are most affordable. Not that they’re really that affordable anyplace in this day and age; but as Ben Franklin once said, “A penny saved is a penny earned,” so I shop at Wal-Mart. (Not that a penny will buy anything any longer, even a piece of gum, but that’s another subject for another day.)

Anyway, before daring to walk through those ominous-looking sliding glass doors at Wal-Mart, I first sat in my vehicle, out there in the sweltering Louisiana heat, and said half a dozen or so “Hail Mary’s” (And I’m not even Catholic), since I figured a little divine intervention might come in handy in light of where I was headed. Then, deciding I was sufficiently fortified, I took a deep breath, got out, slammed the door on my truck, and began the trek across the littered parking lot toward the entrance to that dreaded place. (I personally think they should hang a sign over the doorway saying, to borrow from Dante, “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here”).

Once inside, I wrestled a shopping cart free from its fellow carts, not an easy task given they are invariably jammed together in such a way that separating them requires Herculean strength. Yet, I managed and only emitted a few choice cuss words in the process, after which I set off to accomplish my task—shop as quickly as possible and get the you-know-what out of that place before I went completely, totally insane.

And during that ordeal, I decided exactly what makes shopping at Wal-Mart so excruciatingly unpleasant:

1. Greeters who either snarl at you as if daring you to enter the store or else ignore you entirely2. Crowded, too-narrow aisles3. Hordes of rude shoppers—most of them yakking on cell-phones4. Screaming babies5. Loud, undisciplined children6. Obnoxious teenagers, some of whom are in danger of losing their pants and have to keep jerking them up with each step they take7. Surly employees (Of course, if I worked at Wal-Mart, I too would be surly)8. Goods piled on top shelves where no one but Michael Jordan could possibly reach them9. Goods placed on the back shelves in the freezers, where no one but an Orangutan could possibly reach them 10. DVD’s that are two for $10 but piled in a bin five-feet-deep and five-feet-wide11. Employees who respond to your request for assistance by saying, “I don’t work in this department, but I’ll call someone who does,” then wander off, never to be heard from or seen again12. Employees blocking the crowded, too-narrow aisles with hand-trolleys filled with stacks and stacks of goods for restocking the shelves13. Shelves that desperately need restocking14. Employees who, when you check out, put several glass containers (wine bottles, jars of olives, etc) together in the same bag, stuff bread in the bag with canned dog food, and toss makeup in a bag with fresh meat15. Greeters (in this case, “So-longers,” I guess), who check your cash register receipt while eyeballing the items in your cart like they just know you’ve shoplifted something, anything, maybe a DVD you managed to dig out from the bottom of the bin, before they dismiss you with a wave of the hand and allow you to walk out the door of Wal-Mart—free at last, free at last!